


Hidden Possibilities

by mindy_makru_tutu



Category: 30 Rock
Genre: F/M, Office Sex, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-23
Updated: 2010-04-23
Packaged: 2019-08-27 10:54:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16701145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindy_makru_tutu/pseuds/mindy_makru_tutu
Summary: Jack finds new possibilities in a Slanket.





	Hidden Possibilities

Cerie is standing at her door, chewing gum and idly reading out her phone messages. She’s just doing her job but Liz wishes she’d go away. The writers are all gathered around the table in the outer room, for once working diligently on a new commercial parody. Every so often, one of them calls out a suggestion to her and she wishes they’d stop doing that. She’s wishes they’d go away too. All of them, and she doesn’t care where. She only cares that they go, and fast.

Because what none of them knows is that beneath her blue Slanket, Jack’s lips and teeth are doing the most insane things to her inner thighs. Consequently, she wouldn’t know a good comic line if one hit her over the head right now. And she certainly can’t be expected to concentrate on stupid phone messages when her boss is slowly sliding her underwear down her thighs, bit by bit, his fingertips grazing her skin.

Liz yelps as she lifts a knee and bangs it on the underside of her desk, causing Cerie to pause and frown at her blankly. Not that Cerie does anything that is not blank. She shrugs blankly next, continuing to relay her messages at what seems like a glacial pace. Liz waves her away frantically, telling her she doesn’t want to be disturbed and ordering her to shut the door behind her. She slumps in her seat when Cerie obeys, the door clicking closed on her annoying staff.

Almost immediately, a low chuckle emits from beneath the Slanket. Liz pulls the collar out to peer down at him but before she can form a relevant wisecrack, Jack is shoving her skirt up her thighs with both hands and his face is pressed against her stomach, his lips are kissing her mons. With a half-groan, half-sigh, she lets her head fall back against her chair. Because nobody does this like Jack. Probably because nobody but Jack has ever really done this to her. Which is mostly her fault, because it always weirded her out too much to let anyone try for very long. But even when she did, even when she tried and they tried, nobody ever made her feel half of what Jack did within the first few seconds of him persuading her that oral sex did not suck. So to speak. So now she lets him do it all the time. Because she enjoys it and so does he, which is probably part of what makes him so awesome at it.

Liz giggles softly as she watches his head moving round beneath the warm fleece, feeling for him with both hands, letting her fingernails dig through to his scalp. He groans in response, groans her name and grips her hips, pushing her chair back and pulling her roughly to the edge of it. She tries to keep her eyes half open and tries to monitor her moans as he resumes kissing her thighs, parting them as he ascends. Up above, she takes off her glasses, throwing them onto the desktop and covering her face with one hand as, down below, Jack carefully parts her labia with his fingers and starts to lick her, making little yummy noises from beneath the Slanket. Some of them are so loud that she has to shush him. But Jack ignores this, his hands moving up and down her thighs with such relish as his lips find then close around her clit.

Liz jumps a little in her seat, then settles back with another moan. It’s a struggle to keep her eyes open, to keep watching the door as his hands pull her almost off the edge of her chair, pressing her thighs as wide as the desk will allow before burying his face in her, plunging his tongue in her, licking, nipping and sucking at such a frantic, loving pace that she is squirming in her chair, pressing against his mouth and instantly close to coming. She’d like to have self-control enough to stop him, to tell him that while she appreciates his effort and fervour, she’d rather not come in the chair she sits in everyday, eats in everyday, the chair she knows Frank periodically likes to fart in. And she especially does not want him to bring on a screaming orgasm when her staff is in the very next room, liable to walk in at any moment and see her red-faced and writhing.

Liz would like to have that sort of self-control. But she does not.

Jack apparently has more though. Because his onslaught eases, his attentions taper down to just gentle licking and soft kisses placed on random spots of her lower anatomy. Liz relaxes in her chair, breathing heavily and hearing her name being repeated from beneath her Slanket. It’s one of the things she likes best about sex with Jack. Not just that he repeats her name, but the way he does it. Like she’s the only thing in his head, the only woman he wants, the one he’s been waiting for. That’s how she interprets it anyway. Maybe because she feels like she’s been waiting for him all this time.

As her breath evens out, she can feel herself coming back from the brink, her orgasm slipping slowly away. And while she wasn’t sure she wanted it just then, she also didn’t not want it. She wants all the orgasms Jack produces. Because again – nobody else has. Since she started sleeping with Jack, she finally gets what she was missing out on all those years. She always suspected there must more to it, otherwise nobody would make such a huge deal about sex. Now, she gets it though, she knows why they do. Now, she’s making up for lost time. She no longer just waits for sex to be over. She _knows_ it’s over when she’s come (and not always just once) and he’s come. Usually loud and long. And then there’s snuggling. Another pleasure she’s missed out on in previous years.

Apparently though, her orgasm -- the one she thought she didn’t want, then decided, nope, she was wrong, bring it on -- is not lost after all. Because Jack is on the move. He’s tunnelling up through the Slanket, making her laugh when his head pops through the top, his hair mussed and his face ruddy and pleased with itself. His arms are finding their way around her, hunting through the layers of clothes and the folds of Slanket until he can lift her off the chair. She snorts as she awkwardly tries to untangle and wrap her legs around him, and he does nearly drop her at one point on their way to the couch.

“We have to be quiet,” she tells him as he lays her on her back and settles over her, both of them swathed in Slanket.

The words are barely out of her mouth before Jack kisses her, full on the mouth, urgent and deep. Another thing she’s noticed about Jack, unlike, say Dennis who could, and more than once actually did watch a hockey game on TV while attempting to do her, is that when they are having sex, Jack doesn’t have much awareness of…well, anything else. He becomes so completely absorbed that it’s kind of cute. Especially since it’s her he is absorbed with. She’s never been the centre of a man’s attention before. It’s nicer than she thought it would be. Every time they make love, it’s like Jack is trying to make it better than the last. Like he wants the sex they’re having to be the best the world has ever seen. And what she likes about that is that, for once, she doesn’t feel like she has to be any different or any better than she is. Though she is getting better -- the enjoyment she gets from making out with Jack, not to mention the frequency with which they do so, has made that inevitable. And for the first time in her life, Liz feels like she’s doing -- not just something right -- but everything right in bed. Or…on the couch, as the case may be.

Jack’s mouth is moving lower, over her jaw and down her neck and soon his head is disappearing beneath the fleece again in search of her breast. He sucks one nipple through the material of her shirt and bra, and she can’t help sighing his name, offering the other one up to him. As his teeth graze her other nipple, a new dart of arousal spikes through her and she reaches down, barely fumbling as she releases him from his pants. It’s something she’s become quite adept at, with her increased experience. She doesn’t even have to look, she can just blindly unzip him and have his cock in her hand in a matter of seconds. This never seemed like a necessity in the past but she’s pretty sure Jack appreciates this new skill. Especially since she can feel the thrill that runs through his body as she strokes the length of him with her fingertips. And when she wraps her hand around the base of him, she can actually feel the groan that builds deep within him, before it even erupts from his throat.

She places her other hand over his mouth to muffle it. But Jack just kisses her palm, several times, then sucks on her fingers, his eyes cracking open to send her a hungry, heated look with half-lidded eyes. And then his hands are palming her thighs, lifting them high about his hips. He is kissing her mouth as he nestles between them. And he is raising himself up enough for her to guide him to her entrance. She is letting him slide inside her, and he is not stopping until he is buried deep. And when he is, she wraps her Slanket-clothed arms around him, pulling his weight down on top of her, fingers digging into the muscles of his back and face pressed into his shoulder.

Jack rests his face in the curve of her neck, exhaling hotly, which she loves. She loves the intimacy of that, that she can hear every breath and groan and sigh of her name. But she doesn’t love anything as much as she loves the feel of him when he first starts to move. And the way he always knows exactly what rhythm she needs. Every single time. He starts to move steadily, not fast but not too slow, which is perfect because she is not completely unaware of her staff in the other room. And also because she was pretty close before and the way his groin is now hitting her clit brings the electricity of her retreating orgasm racing back.

“Come,” Jack whispers in her ear: “Come, Lemon, come.”

Over and over. Husky and compelling.

It’s the same thing he whispered to her the first time they slept together and she had such trouble letting go, letting herself be seen by him and loved by him. She had such a hard time releasing herself to the pleasure he was trying to give her. She didn’t think she could. She thought she would disappoint him, she thought she might disappoint both of them. But Jack just kept on whispering, kept on moving, kept on kissing her skin, urging her closer to the edge. Until eventually, of course, she flew right over it. She did come. For the first time in years. She did experience the pleasure he promised. And she has every single night since.

She will again, too, in just a moment, if he can just keep doing exactly what he is doing. She sighs his name, tells him not to stop. Jack picks up the pace just a little, lifting off her body to look at her face, bracing one arm against the couch cushions. He leans down to kiss her once, lightly, and with three more deep thrusts, she starts to clench around him, muffling her cries with the back of her own hand and arching underneath his body. Another three thrusts and Jack stalls, shudders above her, groaning lowly before collapsing, spent and heavy.

It’s a few minutes before they catch their breath, before the noise from the outer room begins to invade their world. Outside, the grey New York sky has broken open and fat raindrops are pattering her windows. Jack slowly pulls out of her then collapses again, on his side this time, squirming to find room between her body and the back of the sofa. She pulls her arm out of one Slanket hole and offers it to him, so they both have a sleeve each and can face each other on the narrow couch.

Jack lets out a big breath, eventually commenting: “This thing is warm.”

She looks down at the fleece still twisted over and around the two of them. “Especially when you have sex under it.”

He examines it a moment longer before asking her: “Do you think this is what they had in mind when they designed it?”

She smiles at him. “I’m pretty sure they didn’t, no.”

Jack adjusts his head on one of her cushions, eyes drowsy and content and hair flopped all over the place. “So then it’s just me that sees the hidden possibilities in your Slanket?”

Liz hums softly. “Well…personally, I never used to.” She runs a hand over his jaw, kisses his chin. “But I do now.”

_END._

For more of my "30 Rock" fanfic go [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/812100/Mindy35)


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